Dexter docks his boat in the everglades, and VOs, "I'll be against the current on the way back. With bagging, cleanup, and detour to the Gulf Stream...tight, but I should be home by daybreak." Once the boat's all tied up, Dexter sprints to the cabin. Once inside, he sees bugs crawling around, so decomp has definitely started. "It's time to get you out of my life, once and for all," he says aloud, and sets to work.
At the station, Deb puts away some files and is instantly accosted by LaGuerta. "You've gotta talk to Lundy," says Maria urgently. "About what?" "Get him to hold off on putting Doakes on the news." "Maybe you should talk to Lundy." "Morgan, you're one of us," says Maria, grabbing Deb's hand. "Doakes is one of us. He deserves a benefit of the doubt." "Look, Lieutenant, I know he's your friend, and we're all pretty fucked up about this, but it is Lundy's ballgame." "But he listens to you. You're his right hand!" Deb exasps. "'Right hand,' just say it! Fuck the euphemisms! And, okay, I may be sleeping with him, but that doesn't mean he tells me shit, or listens to me about anything, so stop asking!" LaGuerta looks shocked. As Angel and Lundy walk past, LaGuerta asks, "You're sleeping with Lundy?" Angel and Lundy stop in their tracks and watch. Deb looks at them for a long moment, and says, "I'm sleeping at your place again tonight." He gives a satisfied nod, and Angel rubs his hands together while giving him a look. Hee! LaGuerta storms off.
Back in the Everglades, it's now dark, and Dexter's bringing the last of his body bags out to the boat. He flings a couple of the bags aboard, and VOs, "Just one more trip." He looks at his watch: "Ahead of schedule."
Dexter looks down and sees that one of the bags has been ripped open, and he gasps. "That's right, muthafucka! It's over!" Dex wheels around to find Doakes, his pistol drawn and aimed right at him. Doakes quickly approaches. "How'd you find me?" asks Dexter. "GPS tap on your boat. Jesus Christ, Morgan. Jesus fucking Christ, you're the Bay Harbor Butcher!" "I really hate that name." "Jesus Christ, man." "You said that." Heh. "I always knew there was something with you, but this shit?" "What can I say? You were right about me. I never held it against you. I don't now." "My buddies thought I was crazy for becoming a cop. I had skills. I could have written my own ticket. And lately, I thought they might have been right, but this? Heh, this makes it all worth it." Really, dude? Because I don't think you know what you're in for. Remember last season, when you and Dex fought in the season finale? He would have ripped your throat out if that shipping yard worker hadn't shown up. That gun means nothing, duder. "I'm happy for you," says Dex, sarcastically. "Shut the fuck up," replies Doakes, tossing a pair of handcuffs at Dexter. "Let's get this over with. Put 'em on." Dexter looks down at the cuffs, then back at Doakes. "Morgan, you're done. Give it up." "Would you? In my position?" Doakes explains that he wouldn't be in his position. "You sure about that? You might want to check with Lundy." Doakes cocks his pistol, and Dexter reminds him that if Doakes kills him, nobody will be able to prove his innocence. "Maybe I'll just kneecap you." Not liking the sound of that, Dexter leans down and grabs the cuffs. He puts them on, and with a defeated look, stands back up. "All right, nice and slow," says Doakes, backing up the dock towards land. Dexter stars walking a little faster, and Doakes tells him to "back the fuck off." "Just following your lead," says Dex. Doakes, unsure of his footing, looks down and sees a missing board, and Dexter takes the opportunity to lurch forward and grabs Doakes's wrists. They begin tussling, and Dexter gets a good elbow into Doakes's face. The gun swings around, and Doakes shoots Dexter in the thigh, making him recoil. They both fall into the water, and Dexter gets him into a sleeper hold. After some writhing, Doakes passes out, and Dexter drags him to the shore, crying out because of his new wound.